


How Far is Too Far?

by Reading_with_Winchesters



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, I mean its sad but like really cute too, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rostelecom Cup, grand prix finals, i fucking love yuri plisetsky, skate canada, viktor and yuuri are so married, yuri-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:33:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reading_with_Winchesters/pseuds/Reading_with_Winchesters
Summary: Yuri's skating is the most important thing to him. Even more important than his own health. Will he be able to stop before it is too late?





	

YurI Plisetsky was a failure. Well, not really, and deep down he knew that, but right now it was the last thing he could believe. His free leg had been all over the place in practice today and he had landed hard on his triple Salchow. He had fucked up a triple... how pathetic could he possibly get?

Granted, the reason for these failures was clear: he had let himself go while in Japan with Viktor and that pig, the fake Yuri. Those blasted pork cutlet bowls must have added at least two pounds to his body, and that was no good for any figure skater. Let alone one who was supposedly as great as Yuri Plisetsky.

Any added weight on his body was weight on the ice. He couldn’t be expected to be as agile and light on his feet as he was now if he had any more goddamn fat on his bones. It was Viktor’s fault for dragging him to Japan and Katsuki’s for giving him that god awful, fattening food. He must’ve known what it would do, he was just trying to get rid of the competition. First he steals Viktor, then Yuri’s body. Fucking selfish bastard.

“Yuri.” Yuri stopped his fierce examination of his body at the sound of Yakov’s voice. Right. Skating practice. The more practice he got, the better. The more exercise he could squeeze in, the quicker these pounds would shed off. And then he could continue working on getting down to his ideal body weight. Though, now that he was thinking about it, Yuri wasn’t exactly sure what that weight would look like. Oh well, it would be obvious once he got there. With one last dour glare into the mirror and quick pinch of the fat over his ribs - to remind him why he was doing this - Yuri put his shirt and hoodie back on and went out onto the rink.

When he got out to the rink Yakov was waiting with crossed arms, “You are slacking, Yuri. You will never win if you let yourself go over the other Yuri.” 

Yuri could feel his face turn bright red and his body start to tremble with fury. “The day I let that piggy get to me is the day I retire!” He yelled in his coach’s face before turning around and stalking onto the ice. He was going to give this all he had today and stay on the ice long past Yakov had left. It was only when he was on his own that he would be allowed to push himself as far past his limit as he wished to go.

***

The day’s practice was over before Yuri knew it. He had hardly broken a sweat and he knew that no sweat meant no weight loss. “Just go! I will leave on my own!” He yelled at his coach, not making any kind of move to get off the ice.

“Yuri, you need your rest! And a good dinner! You have worked hard today, reward yourself a little.” He paused, “Just a little though. We cannot have you overindulging.”

A snort ripped out of Yuri’s nose before he could stop it. Like he would ever overindulge himself; he knew what it did to one’s body, and that could not happen to him. “I can take care of myself old man! I am young! Now go to bed before you collapse from the exhaustion of standing around and watching me.” He yelled, angry that Yakov didn’t trust him. Ignoring the fact that there was a perfectly good reason not to trust him. With the sigh of a long suffering man used to being ignored, Yakov turned and left the rink without another word.

Good riddance, thought Yuri. Now the real fun could begin.

He practiced quads until he couldn’t feel his legs. He practiced triples until the numbness in his legs turned to fire. He ran across the ice in step sequences that left his legs like jello. His arms were no longer attached to his body and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to satisfy any part of him. He skated and skated until he literally collapsed on the ice from exhaustion. Blackness was eating around the edge of his vision, and he was not strong enough to fight it off.

When Yuri woke up again it took him a few minutes to come to his senses. Why was he so cold? What the hell was he lying on? That’s when he remembered and he shot up, looking around desperately for a clock. His curfew - well, Yakov’s curfew - was 10:00 on practice days, so he had to be home by 11:00 or risk giving the ancient man some sort of heart failure. Despite his desperate attempts not to care, his coach of oh so many years had grown on him at some point.

10:15. Okay, that was good, he still had time to walk home. Practice had ended at 7:00, and he knew he had practiced until at least 9:00, so he had only been out for like an hour. That wasn’t bad. Not bad enough to have to tell anyone, that was for sure.

He got up a little shakily and made his way off the ice. He didn’t even think about getting something to eat before going back to Yakov’s. Why would he? He hadn’t in almost a week. A week since he had eaten a full meal. A week since he had eaten anything when not under direct supervision. Maybe the pork pounds had melted by now. The thought of that made Yuri smile. Katsuki wouldn’t be the death of his skating career, and Viktor’s infatuation with the Japanese piggy would not deter him in any way.

And that’s how things continued for the next few months. Yuri choked down food whenever Yakov or Lilia were watching him and didn’t even look at food otherwise. The rink was his home for more than 12 hours every day and he always managed to find an excuse to stay at the rink without his coaches getting suspicious.

“I just want to master the quadruple toe loop. I’ll leave in fifteen minutes.”

“It’s none of your business old man!”

“I’m going to cool off for a few minutes.”

And cool off he did. It got to the point where the cold Yuri was so used to penetrated his skin every moment he was on and even off the ice. His fingers were almost perpetually purple and he had taken to wearing as many shirts as he could under his jacket without appearing any different to watchful eyes. Of course, Yakov and the Russian team just thought he was dedicated. In a way, that was the case. Yuri was overly dedicated to the sport, and he liked to tell himself that he was keeping his weight down in order to improve his skating. But every day that his vision went fuzzy and his head spun he was forced to come closer and closer to the fact that he was stuck in an endless downwards spiral and this problem of his was becoming more and more about his dissatisfaction with his body than his skating. If it was about his skating he would have stopped before the side effects began to limit his abilities.

Skate Canada flew by. He came in second to that fucking bastard JJ - something he would never live down - and that just gave him more reason to push himself harder and eat less.

By the time the Rostelecom cup rolled in, Yuri was sicker than he had ever been before. Not that he believed that or would ever let anyone else believe it, but sometimes the truth is the very thing you are ignoring because it seems scary and daunting. If anyone had bothered to check they would have seen the lack of lean muscle that covered most figure skaters; the way his collarbone stuck out enough for someone to wrap their fist around if they tried; the way his waist was almost small enough to surround with clasped hands. Yuri Plisetsky was sick, but would fucking fight anyone who tried to tell him that.

That’s where Viktor and the fake Yuri came into the story again. They cheered for Yuri during the cup, and hugged him - much to his utter dismay - and it was that hug that was the start of his downfall. Viktor had known Yuri for years and yes, Yuri had always been slim, but this was beginning to be scary. He was sure that under the costume Yuri’s stomach was concave and his ribs were sticking out. The Japanese Yuri had had his own experience with eating disorders and, though his problem had never been anorexia, he knew the signs and could easily see all of the symptoms in the angry Russian teen before him.

Sadly, they did not know how to approach him. Eating disorders are fragile and volatile things, one wrong thing can set people down the wrong path forever. Viktor and Yuuri had been in skating long enough to understand the prevalence of eating issues among their ranks. The desire for the perfect body under their costumes to sell them to the audience and allow their moves to be perfect. But that did not mean it was a good thing. No. It was never the answer. And so they did the only thing they could think to do without confronting Yuri and potentially making him snap: insist that he eat every meal with them

Obviously, Yuri managed to evade them for a good portion of their stay, but there were times that he did have to eat with the sickeningly lovey-dovey pair. Yuri made it a point to gag when they even looked in each others directions. If he was going to be forced into this (only half forced, part of him - though he would never admit it - vaguely enjoyed spending time with the two men) then he might as well make it miserable for them too. Except, no matter how obnoxious he was, Yuuri and Viktor stayed by him.

Until they were separated once again. The couple had to go train for the Finals, and so did Yuri. Good. Fuck them. He had eaten more over the past couple of days than he had in probably a week before that, and it was all their fault. Again. What the fuck was wrong with him? Those two made him feel guilty for what he was doing to himself. Like somehow he was disappointing them. That made no sense. He could care less about what they or anyone else thought of him. He was Yuri Plisetsky the Ice Tiger.

Maybe it was for the better that he had eaten. He had noticed an increase in stamina over the past few days, and he hadn’t passed out or gotten as dizzy as usual. His body was getting more reliable, but at what cost? Was it worth it if it also made him more likely to land hard or flub a jump? He didn’t want to turn into Katsuki. Then again, if someone like Viktor could love someone like fake Yuri, then maybe someone could love him no matter what his body looked like. Not that he was looking for love. Fuck you.

He trained even harder in the weeks leading up to the Grand Prix Finals. He wasn’t sure he lost any more weight despite his long hours and lack of meals and that did bother him a little bit, but he was more worried now about making his routines perfect. The stress of the Finals was suffocating, and as bad as it was for him, it was all consuming enough to take his mind off of his body for minutes at a time. That wasn’t to say that things got any better. Just that they got put on hold.

And then Yuri was in Barcelona, once again surrounded by figure skaters and never left alone by Yuuri and Viktor. But the time flew by and it was time for his free skate. Time to beat the fake fucking Yuri into submission and give him and his fiance (which Yuri still wasn’t sure he was happy about) a lesson in humility. In his quest to fight the lovesick pair, he ended up beating Viktor Nikiforov’s world record. I mean, not that that was surprising or anything. Yuri knew he was better than that old man, but it was nice to have confirmation.

This new record also further cemented Yuri’s belief that the lower his body weight, the better his skating was. He was sure that he would not have beaten the other Russian if he had weighed even an ounce more than he did right then. So no more eating until his free skate - at the very least - was over. He couldn’t risk it.

He stuck by that and was so intensely focused before after and during practice that the free skate was there before he knew it. He got on the ice without a second thought, and felt his body start to move as the music played.

***

Viktor and Yuuri approached Yakov as he stood at the rinkside, watching his protege. “What do you want?” He grunted out, never taking his eyes off of the Yuri on the Ice.

“We are worried about Yurio.” Viktor said. It was better to get straight to the point with Yakov. If you beat around the bush too much, he tended to just end the conversation and walk away.

“What do you mean?” His eyes still never wavered.

Viktor looked at Yuuri, who took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, before turning back to his old coach. “We think that Yuri is anorexic.”

That got Yakov’s attention, “And why would you think that?”

Yuuri spoke up, “He has barely eaten anything today or yesterday at the very least, and I hugged him the other day; his waist is too small. His fingers are purple even when he is not on the ice, and he wears more layers than I have seen any Russian wear ever. And I’m engaged to one. Yakov, I know you do not know me very well, but I have some experience in this department. I used to be bulimic. There is a good facility near Hasetsu, my parents sent me there when I was in my teens, and it helped me back on the right track. I am confident it will do the same for Yuri if you give him a few weeks off.”

Yakov’s eyes were bulging out of his skull and his face was redder than any tomato Yuuri had ever seen. Luckily, Viktor was used to his temper and knew how to handle it, “Yakov, I know it is hard, but Yuri needs help. If you don’t do anything for him, I will.”

The old man’s face was still red, but he was no longer shaking, and his eyes had settled back into their sockets, “I have noticed Yuratchka’s problems too. He never goes home from the rink with me anymore. He thinks I am stupid, but I know he is pushing himself too hard. I can not do anything because he will not listen to me, but I will not get in the way of you two and whatever you plan. Just please wait until after the Finals. He deserves to feel happy for at least today.”

And so they waited. Yuri won gold and Viktor’s fiance won silver. The couple were a little too busy that night to even think about Yurio and his problems. But the next day was a different story.

They found Yuri in his room, still asleep even though it was past noon. Viktor and Yuuri shared a glance - this was not a great way to wake anybody up - but in the end they realized it was more important to save Yuri’s life than let him sleep a few more hours. Viktor walked up to the teen’s bed and sat next to him. “Yurio, it is time to wake up. I need to talk to you about something.”

Blue eyes opened sleepily and he stretched a little before looking back at Viktor. Then his eyes widened almost comically and he shot upright into a sitting position, noticing the Japanese Yuri as he did so. “Ow.” He mumbled as his vision went fuzzy. Just for a second though, nothing important.

“What are you guys doing here? This is my room last time I checked! Get out!”

“No. We have to talk to you about something important.”

“Fuck you, Nikiforov. Get out!”

“Not until you listen.” That slowed Yuri down a little bit. The Vitya he knew was rarely serious. 

“Fine. Spit it out.” He said grumpily, still angry that his sleep had been encroached on.

“First things first, no interruptions, okay?”

“No promises. Now talk.”

Viktor sighed, “Fine. Anyway, we have talked to Yakov about this and he agrees with us. Yuratchka, you need help.” He could see Yuri about to interrupt so he powered on quickly, “No, hear me out. I know you have been practicing too hard and too long and not eating anything either. That is not healthy. I don’t care if it is for skating, it is not going to help. You are sick, my Yuratchka, and we want to help you get better. There is a hospital in Hasetsu, it deals in eating disorders. We have gotten the okay from Yakov and you are going to spend as long in the hospital as it takes for you to get better. You are slowly killing yourself, and so this is happening whether you like it or not. You are a minor and Yakov has talked to your Grandfather, he said he will fill out any paperwork needed to help you get better. We are all on your side, Yuri, please try this for us.”

Yuri wanted to say no. He wanted to scream Fuck you! In their faces and stalk out of the room. But he knew that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Viktor had made him feel guilty for doing as he was doing. Fuck Viktor. What the fuck? He didn’t have a problem! He was keeping his weight down for skating, that was all. There was nothing unhealthy about him! The purple lips and fingers and extra layers were just because it was a colder winter than usual! And he just wasn’t that hungry... Okay. None of that was true. Yuri knew he had a problem. And as of recently it was getting in the way of his skating more than helping it. As much as he hated his body and did not want it to get any bigger, was it worth losing his career over? That was a hard question. Then again, this was happening whether he liked it or not according to Viktor the Insufferable, so did he really have a choice?

He looked Viktor in the eyes and uttered the hardest words he would ever have to say in his life, “Fine, I’ll go.” Then, just to make it seem like he was still in charge, “But if I’m not out by Nationals I will fucking end you and your precious Katsuki, got it?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is just a headcanon of mine that I had to get down. Yuri is always animated as so skinny and it got me thinking. He is so focused on perfection all the time that I think he would do anything to achieve it. He is just trying to improve his skating but I think he probably takes it quite a bit too far. You don't have to agree with me, this is just something very close to my heart. Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated as they inspire me to write more! I love all of you guys :)


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